


The Drooling Labrador and the Den Mother

by EveryDayBella



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Is a Good Bro, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Recovery Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, post-mission avengers, steve rogers is a sleepy puppy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 02:18:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3632991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveryDayBella/pseuds/EveryDayBella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Avengers all have their roles, Steve is the leader, Clint is the marksmen and general prankster, Bruce is the voice of reason, Tony is the smart one, Thor is a warrior, Sam is the fastest flier, Natasha is the best fighter hands down, Bucky? Tony calls him the Tower mascot. In reality, he's the Den Mother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Drooling Labrador and the Den Mother

**Author's Note:**

> This is a birthday fic for the wonderful DSS_12 inspired by this fanart http://thebestpersonherelovesbucky.tumblr.com/post/111493269704/stephrc79-zealouscorgi-actual-cat-rogers-gives . Happy birthday BB! Hope you enjoy!
> 
> (As always all the love to Angelycdevil and Myherion for beting and flailing all over my docs. mwah.)

**The Drooling Labrador and the Den Mother**

****  
  


It had been a really long day. Between the mole people, Doom Bots, and the fucking dinosaurs Hydra decided to engineer. They were desperate and now the Avengers are officially done. They weren’t hard to fight, but there were a lot of them and they took time and effort to defeat. By the time Steve and the rest of the Avengers drag themselves into the lobby of Stark Tower, they’re beaten, bruised, and bloody. Even Thor looks worse for wear and Steve is dead on his feet.

“How long was that?” Clint moans, nearly dropping into one of the lobby chairs before Natasha pulls him up straight.

“You left at nine twenty-eight this morning, sir,” JARVIS helpfully supplies. “It’s now nearly eight forty-five.”

“Twelve hours, Clint.” Nat symplified. “It's still not the worst mission you’ve ever been on. What about Colombia?”

“I’m getting too old for this shit.” Clint mutters, leaning heavily on Natasha’s side.

“I have a thousand years on you, Friend Barton.” Thor’s normal booming voice is much more subdued than usual. “If anyone is getting too old for this, it is I.”

“Considering how late it is, and the fact that we've been fighting for nearly twelve hours, I’m just gonna say that was some good humour and let it go.” Tony landed on the roof, but everyone still had their coms in. “Now, if your name isn’t Pepper, don’t talk to me for twenty-four hours.”

Tony’s com link cuts out with a squeak. “He’s a little abrupt, but he’s got a good point.” Steve manages the approximation of a smile. “Good night everyone.”

There’s a chorus of goodnights from his team as Steve’s elevator slides closed. He doesn’t even have to tell JARVIS to take him to his floor. He slumps against the wall as the elevator speeds up the building, all the while battling to keep his eyes open.

As it is, he has to shake himself back into full awareness before he gets off. Stepping foot into his apartment brings on a fresh wave of exhaustion and weariness. He drops the shield into the normal place, leaning it on the wall next to the door. He hasn’t realized his arm is cramping up until the weight is gone. He wanders into the living room and the couch looks so inviting that he can’t help falling onto it. He can’t remember ever being this tired. Exhaustion pulling at his muscles and blanketing his mind in a haze. He’s fully aware that he’s disgusting, sweaty, bloody, and god knew what else.

And yet there’s still something very much not right.

“JARVIS.” Steve moans, head resting on his arms.

“Yes, Captain Rogers?”

“Where’s Bucky?” Steve doesn’t care that he sounds like a petulant child. He just wants his Bucky.

“Sergeant Barnes is in the gym. Shall I call him, sir?”

Steve seriously considers it for a moment. It’s a testament to how exhausted he is that he even thinks about dragging Bucky up there. If Bucky’s in the gym, that means he’s probably wailing on something and if he’s wailing on something then, that means he’s got some frustration he needs to deal with. Steve can survive without him.

He thinks.

Maybe.

“No, JARVIS. Leave him alone.”

“Of course, sir. If you need anything.”

“I know who to call.” The computer goes blessedly silent and Steve sinks into the couch cushions, going boneless and weak now that he doesn’t have to focus on leading, fighting, and keeping everyone safe.

That should be a relief. Permission to sink into oblivion for a little while, but while he does slip into a doze, his brain doesn’t shut off. His mind is still analyzing every maneuver, communication, and mistake. It might have been an easy enough battle, or three battles, but his team still collected injuries. Sam probably has a concussion, Clint is covered in bruises and cuts, Nat likely has a broken rib, but she refused to have it looked at. Peter Parker, the new kid, ended up with a broken an arm when one of the Doom Bots broke the web he’d been swinging on.

As the leader and the one who called the shots, Steve knows that is all his fault. While no one had been killed and they’d survived to fight another day, the burden still rested on his shoulders and each of his friends hurts weighed pretty heavy.

It isn’t an easy rest, nor was it peaceful.

That is until something gently combs through the hair on his forehead. The touch is familiar and reassuring, infused with care and the kind of love that strips you bare and removes  the unnecessary weights that you carry.

Steve’s lips stretch into a smile. “Bucky.” He sighs, his soul recognizing its other half in an instant.

“Heya, punk.” Bucky’s deep voice rumbles, easing him farther into that peaceful non-state. “You did good today.”

Steve hums, lulled by Bucky’s thumb rubbing circles into his forehead. “They still got hurt. My fault.”

There’s a chuckle, and if he hadn’t been bone weary, he would have been turned on. “Always were too hard on yourself, Stevie. It’s really not your fault though, and they’d tell you the same thing.”

Steve forced his lips into a cocky smirk. “Too tired to argue.”

“What’s this? The world must be ending. Steve Rogers isn’t going to argue with me.”

“Ha ha.” Steve wants to curl into the sound of Bucky’s laughter like a warm blanket.

Bucky cards his fingers through Steve’s blond hair, easing him into a deeper state of rest. It feels like a while before Bucky speaks again. “You hungry?”

Steve hadn’t been until Bucky mentions it. Now its all he can think about. He groans and tries to burrow deeper into the couch.

Bucky laughs, and Steve feels Bucky’s lips against his own. “I’ll go put something on. Just go back to sleep.”

“M’kay. Love you, Bucky.”

“I love you too, Stevie.” Oblivion slips in and it’s better this time. Steve has Bucky there to keep the darkness at bay.

* * *

Bucky has the leftover half of Tuesday's meatloaf reheating in the oven before he starts checking up on the rest of the team.

“Mr. Stark has ordered me not to allow anyone to talk to him for twenty-three hours and fourteen minutes,” JARVIS explains.

“Good. Make sure he sleeps and tell Pepper if she needs anything, she knows where to find me.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Hows the new kid, Parker?” Bucky asks while digging through the cabinets, looking for a can of corn, and muttering about their poor organizational skills.

“Mr. Parker’s arm has been set and placed in a cast. He is currently on his floor and asleep.”

Bucky hums, trying to decide if it is worth it to leave Steve to check in on the kid. “Okay. Let me know if he needs anything during the night. I’ll check on him in the morning.”

“Of course, sir. Dr. Banner says that he is fine and please stop worrying about everyone.”

“Tell him I got the message.” Bucky snorts, opening the can of corn he’s finally found. “Open up a line to Natalia.”

It takes a few moments, but soon Natasha’s annoyed voice is filling the room with Russian. “What do you want, Bucky?”

Bucky replies back in fluent Russian, more than willing to play her games. “I just wanted to know how you were feeling.”

“Fuck you.”

“Natalia, it’s not a weakness to go see doctors if you need to, and I saw that Bot throw you. You need to see a doctor.”

“When did you become a therapist?”

“Well, I’ve seen enough of them,” Bucky mutters dryly. “I’m right and you know it. If you won’t do it for you, do it for Steve? He’s gonna beat himself up, but at least if you get yourself checked, he’ll know you’re okay.”

“You don’t fight fair, Barnes.”

Bucky knows her weakness is her boys and he’s fixing to play the big card. “Take Clint, get his head checked too, please.”

“They won’t find anything in his head.”

“Of course they won’t, he’s an idiot.”

“I can speak Russian too, Barnes,” Clint slurs in english.

“Fuck you too, Barton.”

“Alright, alright, we’re going.” Nat sighs, and Bucky can hear her pulling Clint to his feet. “Thanks, Bucky. Take care of your guy.”

“Oh, I am.” The line clicks off as Bucky is pulling left over mashed potatoes out of the microwave. “JARVIS, where's Sam?”

“Just leaving the medical level, sir. Shall I invite him up?”

“Yeah.” Bucky isn’t quite sure how to feel about the computer knowing his habits so well. “Just tell him to be quiet walking through the living room.”

“Of course, sir.” While waiting for Sam to make it up, he checks on Thor, who’s tired but otherwise fine. He and Jane talk for a few moments, but he knows she wants time with her man as much as Bucky wants his.

It’s a testament to how fast the Stark tower elevators are that less than five minutes later Sam is wandering into Steve and Bucky’s kitchen, blurry eyed and with white gaze covering half his face. “You look like hell,” Bucky states, sliding a glass of water toward one of the barstools.

Sam sinks into the seat with a groan. “Kick a man while he’s down.”

“Okay, cause I know you can handle it.” Bucky smirks before turning more serious. “So, what’s wrong with you?”

“It’s not a concussion, but it still rings and JARVIS will be waking me up every hour tonight, but I’ll be fighting tomorrow. How’s everyone else, Den Mother?”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Leave the nicknames to Stark, yeah?” Bucky still gives him a run down on the team, asking JARVIS for updates while he does.

Sam chuckles, shaking his head wearily. “And that one in there, drooling on the couch?”

“I checked him out earlier. Everythings superficial. He just needs to sleep it off. I’ll know the other better in the morning.”

Sam arches an eyebrow, silently asking what that means, but not coming right out and saying it. It’s something Bucky’s always liked about Sam. He’s willing to be involved and listen, but never pushy about it. He never plays therapist with his friends unless he’s asked first, but then you had best expect brutal honesty . Sam will not go easy on you. Bucky goes to him when Steve starts sugar coating things around him.

Bucky loves his punk desperately, he always has, but there are times when he wants to knock his head against a wall.

“Steve, you’ve got to have noticed this by now, he gets this way after missions. Starts micro analyzing everything and forgets that Captain America isn’t perfect and that people get hurt. I won’t know how bad he is until he’s not dead on his feet.”

“I’d noticed.” Sam smiles, tired and amused. “He’s been better since you came back though.”

“That’s just ‘cause I don’t let him get away with shit. You guys look at him in the suit and see Captain America. I see a ninety pound asthmatic who I made a habit of pulling out of alleys.”

Sam doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Bucky lets him think. It’s another thing he’s always liked about Sam, he’s not gonna say the first thing that comes to mind. He’ll think about it and make sure it is the right thing to say. “You have a point, but you know your viewpoint isn’t in all the right, either?”

“Yeah. Steve and I have had many arguments about it.” Bucky’s smiles full of longing with his eyes unfocused and a hundred years away. “I just see it sometimes. Most days he’s somewhere between the two.”

“How did you get like this?” Sam smoothy changes the subject when he senses Bucky getting lost in his patched together memories. “Taking care of Steve I get. That’s second nature, but looking after the rest of us? No one would blame you if you didn’t care about another human again, and yet you're still here checking up on everyone, forcing Nat to go to the hospital level, things like that. They’re not your team, but you're still checking on them, making sure they’re okay. It’s pretty remarkable.”

Bucky shrugs, uncomfortable with the praise. He can remember when he would have shrugged and grinned, adding a wink and a saucey comment. These days he isn’t quite sure how to handle it. His therapists keep telling him that its okay to accept compliments, but he just isn’t quite there yet.

“Their Steve’s team, but they’re my friends,” Bucky explains with stilted words. “I had three sisters and a best friend who weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet. I looked after them. It was just what I did. Since I’m not fighting anymore, it’s the what I can do to make sure they’re okay when they get back.”

“You’re a good guy, Bucky Barnes.”

Bucky’s cheeks turn pink and he ducks his head, missing the longer hair he used to hide behind. “Thanks, um, you wanna stay for dinner? I’ve got plenty.”

“Yeah, sounds good.” And that’s the other reason Bucky likes Sam, he never says anything when Bucky’s visibly embarrassed.

“Set the table. I’m going to go wake up the drooling labrador.”

Sam grumbles. Bucky snickers as he leaves the kitchen.

Bucky tiptoes into the living room where he finds Steve still snoring into the couch cushions. They’re going to have to get the couch cleaned. Steve is disgusting, covered in dust, sweat, and a little blood. Bucky can’t help smiling at him dopely for a moment. He’s got this stupid grin on his face in his sleep. When Bucky had gotten up to the apartment earlier, Steve’s face had been pinched and troubled. It had cleared up as soon as Bucky had touched him. He’s sweet and a little heart breaking. Bucky wishes it was that easy all the time.

“Steve.” He shakes the Steve’s shoulder gently trying to ease him into awareness. “Steve, come on, wake up. I made some dinner.”

Steve groans, eyes remaining closed, all while trying to snuggle deeper into the cushions. “Go away, Bucky.”

“No. Come on. Wake up.” Bucky chuckles, rubbing circles into his back. “If you don’t wake up now, you’ll wake up in three hours wanting a four course meal, and I’m not feeding you then.”

“You’re bossy.” One blue eye creeks open with no heat in it, just a sweet sleepy glaze.

“You love it.” Bucky winks, which brings a smile to Steve’s lips. “Come on, Captain. Up and at ‘em. We’ve got company and everything.”

“Who wanted to come over and see your ugly mug?” Steve mutters as Bucky pulls him off the couch. “They must have come to see me.”

“Got news for, pal, you look like shit.”

“That’s not very nice.” Steve pouts. Bucky rolls his eyes, and presses his lips to Steve’s just briefly, feeling the smile underneath them.

“Stop flirting with me, mister. You might gross Sam out.”

“No, we might make him sad.” Steve claps a hand on Sam’s shoulder before sinking down into the chair next to him. Steve looks more alert than he’s seen since he’d gotten home. “I mean, how long has it been, Sam?”

“Aw, I miss when you’re an ass, Steve.”

Steve and Bucky go on to explain every meeting between Sam and a girl for the last six months to determine when the last time was that he’d gotten some. Bucky reviled in the teasing light on Steve’s face. It’s almost eleven o’clock at night and they are eating leftover meatloaf with their friend. Steve still looks exhausted, like he could fall asleep in his potatoes, but he’s happy and Bucky loves it.

Steve is still teasing Sam, though they’ve moved on to how slow a runner he is, when JARVIS interrupts. “Sergeant Barnes, you wanted to know when Ms Romanov and Mr. Barton made it back to their floor.”

“Yeah, how are they?”

“Ms. Romanov wishes you to know that she has two cracked ribs and that she will still kick your ass in the morning.”

“She probably will, too. How’s Clint?”

“A concussion, sir. I will be waking him up during the night.”

“Parker still out of it?”

“Yes, sir. I will let you know if anything changes.”

“Thanks, JARVIS.” An AI that ran an entire building. There are days when Bucky really loves the future. He doesn’t have to leave his dinner table to check up on everybody.

Bucky notices Steve staring at him, sweet smile and adoration on his face. “What?” Bucky asks, smiling back because that smile makes him smile.

“You checked up on everybody, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess, but you know I do that.”

“It’s pretty great.” Steve shrugs. “I love you.”

“I love you too, pal.” Bucky snickers. “But I think it’s time to get you to bed.”

“Me as well.” Sam says with a shrug. “Night boys.”

“Night, Sam.” Steve calls while Bucky pulls him to his feet.

“You. Shower,” Bucky orders. “You’re disgusting.”

“You could join me?” Steve teases and winks.

“You’re not up to me joining you tonight, babydoll. You’re barely standing. Now, get out of here.” Bucky can’t resist slapping his round ass as he walks away.

Bucky clears up the kitchen as quickly as he can. He may not be expecting anything tonight, but Steve had been gone for twelve hours. Bucky’s about at his limit.

By the time Bucky makes it back to their room, the shower is off and Steve is already on the bed with just a towel around his waist. It looks like he just fell that way and hadn’t bothered to get up. Bucky snickers and shoves his shoulder to reason him back to consciousness. “Come on, Stevie, all the way into bed.”

“You’re bossy.” Steve mutters, moving farther into the bed until Bucky can get the blankets freed.

“You love it and you know it.” Bucky turns out the lights, pulls Steve into his arms, and buries his face into the back of Steve’s neck. It’s the way they used to sleep on cold Brooklyn nights when Steve’s tiny body couldn’t hold in heat. Bucky smiles at the wave of nostalgia and pulls Steve closer. “Just go to sleep, punk.”

Steve never hears, because he was out the moment the lights were off.

* * *

The sun coming through their window is bright and clear by the time Steve wakes up in the morning. The bed is bathed in a warm, golden glow, which has Steve stretching out and burying his face back in his pillow. It can be midmorning for all he cares. It is a blessing of the serum that after only a nights worth of sleep he's fully rested. After yesterday's adventure, he feels he deserves a lazy morning in bed.

He lays still, as he smothers his face in the clean sheets, smelling him and Bucky overtaking his senses. It smells like home. A slow smile breaks out on Steve's face as he’s lulled into a peaceful, contented state.

He can stay there for hours and would have if he hadn't reached out seeking, the solid warmth of his lovers body and found nothing but sheets instead. Alarm cuts through the haze and he yanks both eyes open to find the bed empty. No Bucky. Steve quickly thinks back as far as he can. He's certain that Bucky was with him all night. There’s no where else he would go, is there?

He's  purposely not thinking about what ifs as he rolls over and sits up. Panic is clawing at his insides, clouding up his mind, and pulling him apart. He tries to force it down, to think this through, and not freak out. There's no reason to think that anything has happened to Bucky. He probably just woke up early to go work out, or something. That does very little to settle Steve's nerves.

A low chuckle breaks through the haze. "You're way too damn adorable this early in the morning."

Leaning in the doorway, the picture of effortless cool in dark sweatpants and a grey shirt, is Bucky. Steve takes a quick stock, double checking that he looks okay before allowing himself a laugh and falling back into the bed. "Where did you go?" He asks as a distraction more than anything else.

The bed dips before Bucky is crawling in next to him, lips finding lips and lazily drawing tiny sighs from Steve. They end up curled around each other like the cats Natasha accuses them of being. Bucky's chin on Steve's shoulder, occasionally mouthing at his ear or throat. Steve's arm twisted up and around to tangle his fingers into Bucky's long, silky strands of brunette hair.

"Went to go check on Parker," Bucky says after a moment of peaceful silence. "Wanted to make sure he was listening to the docs and not swinging from the ceiling or anything."

Steve winches, shame coloring his cheeks. He'd nearly had a heart attack watching Peter Parker plumet five stories. It could have been worse, the Bot had cut his line when he was low, but Steve still felt bad about not being about to warn him. He should have gone to look in on him last night, but he'd just been so tired.

"Hey, none of that." Bucky's lips landed on the crease between Steve's eyebrows. "He's okay. Really. He was excited when I was there. First injury in the line of duty. He's young. He'll get over it."

"Should have done something." Steve muttered against Bucky's weight. "Should have taken care of it last night."

"He was asleep last night, pal." Bucky reminds him. "What were you going to do? You were dead on your feet. You don't have to carry everyone elses weight."

"I'm their leader. That's my job."

"No, its not." Bucky grabs Steve's chin, turning him to look at his fierce, blue eyes. "Your job isn’t to take responsibility for everything that falls apart. Shit happens, but everyone is okay and they don't blame you. You're job is to love me. Everything else is secondary."

Steve smiles, relief fluttering in his chest. "I like that job."

"Its a good thing. No one else does it right." Bucky captures Steve's lips,sucking lightly on the bottom one before softly pushing inside tangling their tongues, swallowing Steve's little sighs and whimpers. Its a symphony of small touches, lightly pressed fingers, shivers and moans breaking in concert in the morning light. Steve has both hands under the hem of Bucky's shirt, palms flat to the scarred skin of his back. Bucky metal hand is cupped around Steve cheek, metal plates warmed by Steve's skin. Its slow and lazily, pressed together just to feel connected.

"You're wearing too many clothes." Steve whispers, never pulling away from Bucky's lips. Bucky laughs and gets his shirt off. He stays close; like he can't bare to move away.

They're lazily kissing, brushes of skin that go nowhere, gentle explorations that are more an excuse to touch than anything. After the day Steve had yesterday, he's grateful for the space, the unrushed pleasure of the moment.

Bucky is a warm weight holding him down, anchoring him to the earth, or to their bed at least. He sighs when Bucky’s lips leave his neck where he’s been sucking on his pulse point for the last few minutes. They’re light as feathers as they kiss and suck down his collarbones, across the broad plains of his chest paying special attention to his nipples and the dip of his belly button. Bucky knows every spot that turns Steve into putty, plays him like a piano, and hits the high notes and low notes with the same finesse. Steve is trembling with anticipation, aching with the need to be touched.

He lets loose a low whine as Bucky gently brushes his fingertips, both flesh and metal, along his erection. It’s not nearly enough pressure, to light, too teasing, but it makes him melt. He lets Bucky play him, short circuit his brain, and makes him think only about the pleasure of his lovers hands.

Shutting his eyes, Steve lets himself simply feel as Bucky takes him in his mouth. He can’t stop the soft exhale as Bucky, slowly and torturously, moves up and down his length, swallowing around him, teasing him with just the right pressure, pulling him right to the edge of euphoria only to shove away. Steve’s eyes snap open, staring at Bucky incredulously. Bucky smirks, teasing, and licks a broad strip up before pulling away completely.

“Bucky.” Steve pants somewhere between a growl and whimper. “What the hell?”

“Patience, Captain.” It’s not the first time Steve thinks Bucky might have a little bit of the devil in him. He complains when Bucky leans over to root around in the drawer next to the bed, but give up a view of his gorgeous ass. In a moment of pure decadence Steve slides his hands under the waistband of Bucky’s sweats to squeeze his ass. It’s round, firm, and fits in his palm. Steve’s had a love affair with it since he was a teenager.

“You need a dictionary, punk?”

“If you’d taken them off when I told you too, I wouldn’t.”

Steve doesn’t have to see Bucky’s face to know the grin on it. He flips around, throwing himself back on top of Steve, and shoving his tongue into his mouth. Steve can’t keep up with Bucky’s pace, deep and powerful. Bucky’s using his mouth like he would his ass, fucking him.

Bucky pulls away with a wet smack, pupils blown and dark. “You wanna get fucked?” Bucky whispers into his ear before tugging it between his teeth. “Or what?”

Steve issues a low groan in answer. As if he would ever tell Bucky no. They scramble, hands, fingers, lips everywhere. Steve didn’t see the lube that Bucky had found, but he falls apart as he slicked up metal fingers carefully work him open. There’s something about Bucky using the metal hand, the one that was given to him to destroy, and using to bring him pleasure. Steve isn’t quite sure Bucky knows how much he likes the arm.

Steve hooks his arm around Bucky’s neck pulling, him up where he can kiss again. He’s lost trace of time, but the morning sun is still bright on them, so he figures it can’t have been too long since Bucky first crawled into bed. That doesn’t stop his mouth. “Bucky, ready.” He gasps against Bucky’s pink lips. “Want you.”

The thing about Bucky has always been that he has a mouth a mile long and he was never afraid to use it. He could talk himself into as much trouble as he could talk himself out of. He mastered the art of the backtalk at the tender age of eight. Steve and Bucky had been infamous for the vocal arguments they could get into when properly worked up.

In bed, everything changes. Bucky might be a tease, but if he knows what Steve wants, he’s going to give it to him. So he doesn’t hesitate before pulling Steve’s back to his front, lining them up and pushing in. Steve’s breath leaves in a hard gasp, eyes fluttering shut. He rests the back of his head against Bucky’s shoulder and smiles as his lover starts mouthing at his throat.

“Better?” Bucky’s mummers, his wet tongue making broad paths up the skin of his neck. Steve can only manage a nod and jumps when he feels cold metal against his waist. There’s a low chuckle that rumbles in the chest behind him.

Bucky sets a slow, unhurried pace. They’ve got no where to be, so they take their sweet time. Sighs and moans filling the air, skin against skin against metal. Steve’s got one hand twisted around Bucky’s silver fingers and the other reached behind him, buried in brunette roots. It feels good, too good, to just be them, to be connected and free the way Steve has only ever been with Bucky.

Eventually Bucky thrusts harder, quicker, bringing Steve even closer to tipping over the edge, fall head first, but Steve hates falling without Bucky. He clings, breathing ragged and uneven, trying to think past Bucky’s grunts in his ear and the fingers leaving bruises in his hip.

Finally, Bucky pulls him close and doesn’t leave again. Gives up a harsh shout that might have once been Steve’s name and Steve falls, tumbling into a white abyss where everything feels good and light…

...and when he comes back to, Bucky’s still there, nose buried in the hollow between Steve’s neck and shoulder. They stay there wrapped up in each other and the sweat soaked sheets as they come down. Until Steve snorts and turns his head to kiss Bucky’s cheek. “Gonna need another shower.”

“Five more minutes.” Bucky nuzzles his nose into Steve’s short hair.

“We’re gross, Buck.” Steve chuckles, indulging Bucky’s cuddling like he always has.

“What else is new?” Bucky grumbles, pinching Steve’s side again. “Shut up, punk.”

Steve settles, watching the suns rays reflecting off the metal draped across his waist and decides all the fighting and exhaustion is worth it if he gets to come home to this.

Besides, he can always tempt Bucky into the shower with the promise of more.

 


End file.
